


The Magician Muse

by Cakkie



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Dance instructor/magician!Mistoffelees, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Fate, Flirtatious Tugger, M/M, Magic, Magic Revealed, Modern Day Witches, Modern Setting, Oblivious Mistoffelees, Other characters from the musical will make an appearance at some point, Rockstar!Tugger, Romantic Comedy, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-09-25 01:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20368123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cakkie/pseuds/Cakkie
Summary: Quaxo Mistoffelees is a magician without an assistant. Tugger Rum is a rock star in need of a muse. After a once in a lifetime chance encounter, their lives will never be the same.





	1. A Muse and a Magician

“Where the hell is she?”

Muttering a string of curses under his breath, Quaxo Mistoffelees, or Mr. Mistoffelees as he preferred, thumbed his phone keypad at the speed of light. After sending a series of concerned text messages to his childhood friend and assistant, _The Lovely Cassandra_, his heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach. _She was supposed to be here by now._

Pulse racing, he paced back and forth in the small dark dressing room like a caged animal, the walls closing in.

No response.

With the clock ticking down, Mr. Mistoffelees pressed the call button as a last resort. The sultriness of, “_Hi, you've reached Cassandra. I'm unavailable at the moment. Please leave a message or two_,” made his stomach twist as his call went straight to voicemail. Cassandra was the only other dancer who knew his routine by heart. Without her, he was screwed. Palms sweaty, he ran a hand through his hair—which had taken over an hour to style. Mr. Mistoffelees sighed when all he wanted to do was cry. Dammit all to hell! His assistant chose the worst timing for a no show.

A hard knock on his dressing room door made Mr. Mistoffelees jump.

“Hey, twinkle toes! You're on in five.”

Mistoffelees groaned. Even from behind closed doors, he could picture the unlit cigarette dangling from the dumpy stage manager’s stupid mouth. He hated that guy. Mistoffelees silently flashed him the finger and took a deep breath.

Placing his phone down with a soft _click_, he smoothed his vintage tuxedo jacket and adjusted his bowtie.

“Okay, it's now or never. Magic don’t fail me now,” he said, popping open his top hat.

Head held high, Mr. Mistoffelees strode out the door, confidence and magic in his wake. Assistant or no, the show must go on. Yet as he walked down that narrow stage corridor, an idea formed in his head. An idea that might be just crazy enough to work. Perhaps he would pull this off after all.

* * *

Tugger Rum reclined on a sofa in VIP lounge near the stage while he sipped his drink. Electro pop music beat from speakers as a sizeable crowd gathered in their seats. The club was packed. Eager for the show to start, his eyes shifted to the empty stage. People chatted, backed into one another and laughed. Drinks spilled. Tugger eyed the complimentary bottle of champagne on the table and decided this was one of the finer nightclubs outside of the UK. While not one for magic tricks, he hoped the show at least proved entertaining. He didn’t come all this way for nothing, but then again, he never could say no to family.

“Do you like this song?” his female companion breathed next to his ear.

Remembering his manners, Tugger turned towards the fiery redhead on his right. Fitted in a slinky tight body suit with heavy makeup, his lanky female friend awaited an answer. Having arrived at the club a half an hour early, the moment Bombalurina spotted him, she latched onto his arm and refused to let go. While they would be nothing more than friends, Tugger had no intention of being rude to Bomba. With a wide grin, he draped a casual arm around her.

“It’s rather lacking in sex appeal,” he said.

“Oh, god, enough about sex appeal!”

Right on time, his older half-brother, Munk Ustrap, towered over him, his date in toe. Tugger lifted his gaze and smirked at the lovebirds.

“Well, it’s jolly good of you to make it!” He toasted and Bombalurina giggled at his antics.

Mouth pinched tight in a thin line and a scowl on his handsome face, his brother looked pissed. Tugger snorted. Ever since they were kids, he always did know what buttons to press to get his brother going. It was fun.

Plunking a beer on a coaster, Munk squinted from behind black-rimmed glasses as if to say, “_Shut the hell up_,” and Tugger laughed. Attired in a custom fit silver-ish grey blazer and faded ripped jeans, his older brother looked nothing like him.

“Could we _please_ have a bit more couth tonight? We’re in public.”

His brother, always the poet. Tugger rolled his eyes and grinned. “Hey, when you’ve got it, flaunt it. Besides, I don’t think the ladies mind. Hello, Demeter, nice to see you again.” He raised his glass to an elegant little thing with wild fluffy ginger hair peaking around his brother. Months had passed since he'd last seen or heard anything from her. Tugger breathed a sigh of relief. She looked good. She looked _healthy_. While Demeter largely kept a low profile ever since that horrid trial, Tugger was glad to see her out and about, even if she still despised him after everything.

Demeter frowned and gave a curt nod before scanning the seat next to him. Her face lit up when she noticed her friend. “Bombalurina!” she cried and scurried around the table. Animated with gossip and girl talk, Demeter took her spot.

Munk plunked into his seat and toasted Tugger. “Thanks for coming out tonight.”

“My pleasure.” Tugger clinked glasses with him. It was rare opportunely for them to be on the same continent. No matter where their careers took them in life, they would always be brothers and care about each other.

“Demeter would have never come along if Bombalurina had said no, and she only agreed because you’re here, so thank you.” Munk nodded. “I know you’d rather be working on new songs in the studio before heading back to London, but I’m glad you’re here. It means a lot.”

While Tugger needed to be back in the studio to finish up his latest album, he wouldn’t trade this for the world, even if it meant having to deal with his irate manager breathing down his neck later.

“Like I said, my pleasure, anything for family.” Tugger dipped his head in a show of brotherly respect. Munk followed suit.

A drum roll echoed through the club and the music stilled. Tugger slammed back the last of his drink, ice clinking in his cup. A trio of coloured spot lights rotated over the stage and the velvet curtains pulled aside. The crowd cheered in a thunderous roar of applause before quieting down as a sea of phones turned on in the darkened room. Even the little twinkling lights hanging from the ceiling grew dim.

“This is it,” Munk whispered, and Tugger felt his heart race. Something big was about to happen.

“Hope it’s an enjoyable show at least,” Tugger voiced his concerns. Demeter cast him a dirty look, and he shrugged.

“Supposed to be the best,” Munk offered, not the least bit dissuaded. “Apparently, tickets sold out within the hour. I was lucky enough to get these four when I did. Mister Mistoffelees is new to the magic scene, but people are already calling him the next big thing.”

“Interesting,” Tugger mused with the tilt of his head and Bombalurina shushed him quiet.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” a voice echoed from the empty center stage and a shiver ran down Tugger’s spine. “Tonight, my magic is at a standstill.”

_Oh_? Tugger lifted a brow, intrigued. But the crowd quickly grew restless, murmuring amongst themselves in heated debate.

“What d'ya mean at a standstill?” someone shouted.

“Yeah!” another hollered back. “I paid good money for these tickets! Don’t tell me the show is cancelled?”

“Never fear,” the calm voice answered. Thick mist-like smoke billowed from the stage, hushing the audience. “The show will go on, but tonight I am without assistance.”

Tugger leaned forward. Oh, things just got a lot more interesting. A small thrill danced through him.

Like fireflies dancing in the night sky, thousands of twinkling lights burst forth from the stage. Flashing to the beat of a drum, they took flight into the shape a man. Gasps and astonished hushed chattering resounded throughout the club when a young magician appeared in solid view. Head lowered, with one hand holding his top hat in place, Mr. Mistoffelees slowly lifted his head. For one moment Tugger could have sworn their eyes met and an electric current jolted right through him. Oh, bloody hell, this was going to be a good night.

“Who amongst you is brave enough to aid me in my hour of need?”

Without giving it a second thought, Tugger surged to his feet on the sofa. “I’ll do it!” he volunteered, hand raised.

Some members of the audience laughed while others applauded his enthusiasm.

“Show off,” Munk muttered with a disapproving shake of his head.

A lone spotlight zeroed in on Tugger. “Presto,” the magician said with the point of his gloved hand.

Tugger grinned like a mad man. With an exuberant hop over his brother, he flipped the fur collar to his leather jacket like a lion’s mane around his neck and made his way to center stage.

People clapped. A few stood whistling with their fingers as Tugger sauntered past them. He dipped his head in acknowledgment, eating up the attention and show of praise. But when Tugger leapt onstage, the room fell silent.

Tugger tucked his thumbs into his favorite silver belt, hanging low around his hips, and cocked his head to the side. The magician stood a head or two shorter than him, but with his stage makeup and eyes rimmed with kohl, he seemed less intimating up close. Petite and slender with an air of quiet aloofness, Tugger guessed the magician was young, twenty-three, twenty-four at best. His form fitting black velvet costume and rhinestone jacket left little to the imagination, displaying his amazing sculpted legs. In his fantasies, Tugger imagined what they'd feel like wrapped around him and let out a low appreciative hum. The magician blinked his black doe eyes at him and Tugger forgot to breathe. _Fuck, he’s pretty._

Time stood still. In a room full of people, they felt like they were the only two who existed. They continued to stare at each other, and Tugger longed to know more about this mysterious Mr. Mistoffelees. Yet, the ballet slippers had him scratching his head. _What a curious twist_. 

Then the most extraordinary thing happened. The magician smiled at him, and Tugger knew he was a goner.

Thunderstruck with silent admiration, Tugger put two-and-two together. The slippers suddenly made sense. After the hundreds of dance lessons his mom made him take as a child, he understood what the magician was getting ready to do. He was getting ready to dance. His life was about to get a whole lot more interesting. 

“Ready?” Mr. Mistoffelees arched his brow in question and extended one arm overhead.

Tugger flashed him a smug grin. Oh, he was ready all right. He was more than ready. _Show time_.


	2. Magic Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left Kudos! And sorry for the lateness of this chapter, but admittedly, I did struggle it, so I hope it's okay. Thanks!

“Ready?”

A lone spot light rained on the stage. Palms sweaty, and heart pounding with trepidation Mr. Mistoffelees sighed. Doubt festered inside him, but he wasn’t about to let that that little voice inside him let him quit. They would do this and do this_ good_. Tossing a glance over his shoulder at the man who volunteered as his assistant for the night, he white-knuckled his gloves and swallowed._ No going back now._

His gaze lingered over the wild mane of ash blond hair of his assistant styled in a modern 80s mullet. Mr. Mistoffelees frowned and eyed the tight leather pants, fingerless leather gloves, and spiked chain choker fastened around his neck. Tall and lean, his newest assistant looked like a male model made for the stage. The _Pulp Fiction_ t-shirt peeking out behind the fur-collared motorcycle jacket only further added to his confusion. Mr. Mistoffelees shrugged. _Oh well_. And while he couldn’t place it, he seemed vaguely familiar somehow.

With a confident smirk, the guy winked at Mr. Mistoffelees as if to say, _let's do this_.

This man, whoever the hell he was, was far too cocky for his own good.

He flashed a teasing smile at Mr. Mistoffelees and outstretched a hand. “Tugger,” he said making Mr. Mistoffelees turn. “Ready when you are.”

That voice came as a surprise. Wide-eyed, Mistoffelees blinked at the posh British accent. Of all things, he did not expect to hear such a refined voice coming from that mouth. The more he thought about it, the more he could have sworn he knew this Tugger guy from somewhere, but couldn’t place it. Brushing it off as nothing, he had bigger things to worry about.

“Thanks,” he answered with a tentative handshake of his own.

Amusement sparkled behind those warm amber depths. Eyes smudged with black eyeliner, Tugger cocked his head to one side and smiled. Not sure why it made his heart skip a beat all of a sudden, plenty of strangers had smiled at him during his lifetime, Mr. Mistoffelees stepped back into position.

Lights flashing, the stage lit up. A slow, haunting synth wave song played. Mr. Mistoffelees loved this song. It gave the right ambiance of mystery and magic and made him want to dance. The tempo soon intensified and Mr. Mistoffelees shook his head. _No time for it_. With one leg extended out front, he whirled on his toes and flung his top hat high. It floated away like a leaf on the wind, high above the height of the ceiling and where it finally disappeared. The bewildered audience gasped and applauded as a sea of camera phones flashed. Mr. Mistoffelees smiled. He loved it when his audience recorded him. If only he could be there to see their faces when the videos they took mysteriously vanished from their devices. But not everyone had it both ways.

Standing flat on one foot in an arabesque pose, he moved quick, bending his knee at the hip and spun. While whirling on one leg, Mr. Mistoffelees pointed his other leg out and with the point of his toes, twirled fast. The room spun past around him. But when he stopped to align his torso with Tugger, Mistoffelees prayed with all his might for this to work otherwise, he would be a laughingstock of the magic community. Grabbing Tugger by the forearm, he reached for his assistant and did a 360-degree spin illusion turn at the hip.

_Presto__!_ Sparks exploded from the tips of feet and lightning flashed behind him on stage. To his surprise, his assistant appeared momentarily dazed by what just happened but quickly snapped out of it. He blinked once or twice before his lips twitched. Mr. Mistoffelees held his gaze. His assistant wasted no time to skip right alongside him in a playful strut as if he owned the stage, oozing confidence at every turn. Mistoffelees didn’t bother to hide his delight as people cheered and applauded.

_So far, so good!_

With a renewed sense of confidence, Mr. Mistoffelees hugged one arm to his chest and curved the other overhead while glimpsing back at his assistant, hoping with all his might that Tugger kept up. His next act was even more daring than the first. Fingers crossed, he cast one more look at Tugger. Somehow, having Tugger on stage gave him all the reassurance he needed. If all else failed, then at least he would have someone to dance with.

Knee bent and eyes straight ahead, Mr. Mistoffelees kicked his other leg outwards and jumped. In the blink of an eye, his costume changed into a new, more glamorous fitted black velvet leotard.

The audience cheered and clapped again. Mistoffelees gave a little smirk to his stunned looking assistant. But then a sense of wonderment flickered over his face and he shouted, “_Magical__!_” in a deep and baritone voice.

Encouraged by that voice in his ears, Mistoffelees leapt high in the air with another playful kick and somersaulted forward, his heart light. The uproarious applause from the crowd gave him a renewed sense of energy as he danced in a series of leaps and bounds across the stage. At the unexpected turn of events, Mistoffelees smiled at Tugger who continued to dance right alongside him. The natural flow of their bodies while they moved as one felt right. It felt _effortless._ For a brief second, Mr. Mistoffelees thought of Cassandra and what happened to her. Ever since they were kids, she’d always been his biggest fan. It was so unlike her to ditch him last minute. But he would have to worry about that later. Right now he had a show to finish.

His confidence growing in strides, Mr. Mistoffelees faced the audience and crouched low like a cat. With an outward kick, he bolted upwards and sashayed around his assistant, waving his arms overhead. He loved this part of the routine. When Tugger mimicked him, Mr. Mistoffelees bit his tongue to keep from laughing. Tugger looked like he was having the time of his life, and if Mr. Mistoffelees was being honest, so was he.

Their eyes met and a silent understanding passed between them. They smiled at each other, and Mr. Mistoffelees swore his assistant enjoyed being onstage as much as he did. But the next part of the routine made his heart beat a little faster. He needed to get this right.

In a flash, he led Tugger into a turn, whirling into him and spinning away now wearing his leather jacket while Tugger wore his.

More cheers and applause rang out as Mistoffelees raised his arm high and dipped low into a bow. He shifted his eyes to Tugger and offered a sympathetic smile. The poor guy looked so confused. Cassandra loved this part of the routine, as in her words, _his sparkly coat looked better on her_… Tugger tugged at the sleeves. His rhinestone coat flashing with lights fit a little snug on his assistant, while the motorcycle jacket fit rather big. Mistoffelees eyed the black leopard tattoo creeping up his forearm and for a brief second, wondered what other tattoos lay hidden on his skin. But he shook his head as the beat quickened. With no time to waste and a renewed determination, Mr. Mistoffelees pushed such thoughts aside. Back arched, and hips swaying to the beat, he wiggled his fingers behind him in a dance move he liked to call _The Wave_. Hoping Tugger picked up on the hint, he continued to dance. In a move so smooth it left Mr. Mistoffelees speechless, Tugger slid their palms together and slipped out of his coat. He snatched the motorcycle jacket off Mr. Mistoffelees and in one forceful tug, tossed it high overhead. He rotated his hips suggestively along with Mr. Mistoffelees, and the crowd went wild. _Whoa_._ This guy is good._

This made Mr. Mistoffelees pause. With deep breath to collect his thoughts, he leapt forward onstage. Not a moment later, he performed the splits mid-air with arms extended outwards as he leapt to the other side of the stage. Well, damn. Mr. Mistoffelees caught his breath. He didn’t expect to jump _that_ far. With a quick glance over his shoulder, and to his delight, Mistoffelees noticed Tugger was right behind him, smiling. Not only did Tugger mirror his steps like a pro, but he kept up the pace. Fuck, Mr. Mistoffelees was impressed.

_This guy’s awesome__!_ Mr. Mistoffelees beamed and thanked his lucky stars things turned out so well. But then a thought crossed his mind. Not once had he thanked Tugger for his help. A frown setting in, Mr. Mistoffelees gut twisted with guilt. Tugger must think him selfish. Ignorant even.

With open palms, he blew glitter all over the stage and directed some of it towards Tugger and gave him a soft smile. He tried to convey what he felt. _Thank you._

Without saying a word, Mistoffelees got ready for the next part. A bead of sweat rolled down his spine. Tugger glanced at him and waited for his next trick. He hoped like hell it worked. But reassured by the limber way his assistant paraded onstage, Mr. Mistoffelees breathed a sigh of relief. Tugger must have had some kind of formal dance training. No amateur moved with such grace and precision. This had to work.

But then their eyes locked and Mr. Mistoffelees forgot what he was doing. Butterflies danced in his stomach and for the first time, he noticed warm flecks of gold in Tugger’s eyes and Mr. Mistoffelees gulped. Strange how Tugger had this effect on him. Without so much as a second thought, he summed it up as nothing more than stage fright and looked elsewhere. Arms swept back, he gave an elegant fan kick and twirled. _Time to move_.

With the snap of his fingers, a long red sheet manifested out of thin air and the club erupted in applause. But when Tugger threw his head back and laughed, beckoning him closer, Mr. Mistoffelees could focus on little else. Together, they fluttered the sheet displaying it unhampered to the audience. People applauded and Tugger bowed while saying, _"All this for me?"_

This was getting to be fun.

Not one to be upstaged, Mr. Mistoffelees ran to the far end of the stage, holding one end of the sheet. His assistant raced to the opposite side. Together, they pulled it tight. Ready for his next illusion, Mistoffelees held the sheet by the corners and spun. Twirling and twirling, he wrapped himself in the sheet like a present until he reached Tugger.

Then he stopped.

The next part of his trick had him sweating bullets. He and Cassandra had practiced this many times to get it just right. Heart hammering, Mistoffelees prayed his new assistant continued to follow his lead. Otherwise, the show might end in disaster. On the count of three, Mr. Mistoffelees closed his eyes and performed what he hoped would become his most famous conjuring acts yet.

* * *

Bloody hell, this guy was good.

Tugger smirked as the magician wound himself tight in the sheet. _Cute_.

Content to take a backseat to the spotlight, Tugger kept his attention loving ways silent for one night.

Too enthralled by Mr. Mistoffelees to care that no one took notice of him other than a few, “_Hey, isn’t that_...” and “_That guy looks just like the lead singer from The Tum Rums__!_” Tugger paid no mind. With a firm tug, he lifted away the sheet only to find no magician in sight. The audience gasped.

_What the hell?_

Left standing onstage with a fistful of empty sheets, Tugger glanced around for any sign of Mr. Mistoffelees and shrugged. He found none.

Yet a soft, “_Presto__!_” left him glancing towards the ceiling with his mouth agape. In a slow rotation from a single rope, the magician lowered towards him.

Overcome with admiration and breaking out in a wide grin, Tugger gushed, “_I give you the marvelous! The magical!_ _Mr. Mistoffelees__!_”

People jumped from their seats and cheered. Others applauded in wild enthusiasm with whistles and shouts. Tugger stared in awe. He’d been worried there for the briefest of moments when the magician vanished. But to his delight, magical Mr. Mistoffelees surprised him yet again. This was too much fun.

“Thanks for this.” Mr. Mistoffelees landed beside him, out of breath. “You’re doing amazing.”

A shiver of excitement ran down his spine and Tugger drank the magician in. Black hair sticking every which way and a playful glint in his eyes, Tugger was smitten.

Heart in his throat, he swallowed. “No_._ It’s you who is amazing,” he said. “Not me.” And Tugger meant it.

* * *

Breathing hard and ready for the final trick of the evening, the time for his ultimate conjuring act arrived. So far, everything had gone off without a hitch. Tugger kept eyeing him as if he knew something he did not. It set his nerves on fire. Sometimes, his assistant would smile at him and Mistoffelees had to swallow a lump in his throat. Did he know? No. That was impossible, wasn’t it? Mr. Mistoffelees shook it off as nothing more than him being paranoid. They worked well together. A little _too_ well. It left Mr. Mistoffelees wondering if he should offer Tugger a part-time job. But that would have to wait until later.

After calling his top hat back once he finished performing a series of levitating card tricks, Mr. Mistoffelees motioned to Tugger. This was it.

A booming drum roll set the pace and cued him to start. His swan song, as Cassandra liked to call it, began.

With the snap of his fingers, Mr. Mistoffelees manifested a trolly on stage. By all the praise he received, the audience would never know just how nervous he felt. However, Mistoffelees had a feeling that somehow his assistant did. He flipped his hat to the audience, presenting it empty of any trickery.

As he hopped onto the table with a soft thud, he sat cross-legged and breathed a sigh of relief. Tugger needed no further instruction as he picked up where Mr. Mistoffelees left off and pushed the trolley in a full circle. When Tugger brought the it to a full stop, Mistoffelees stood. Hat held high, he threw it feet first.

Sweat collected at his temples in concentration. Leaning forward, Tugger watched him with bated breath. Heart thumping fast in his ribcage, Mr. Mistoffelees placed one foot in his hat and hoped like hell this worked. With the point of his hand, a bolt of lightening and smoke exploded from the tips of his fingers and then disappeared.

* * *

The magician vanished again.

Tugger peaked inside the hat and his heart sank. No magical Mr. Mistoffelees.

Hushed whispers and shocked gasps flooded the stage as Tugger scanned the club for any signs of him. Like any dutiful assistant, he displayed the empty top hat to the audience and turned the trolley around stage, showcasing it empty. Before he could question what the fuck just happened, a single spotlight shone halfway across the room.

Tugger shielded his eyes from the brightness and squinted. Then he lowered his hand when he realized who he was looking at.

Standing on one of the white platforms with arms extended high in an exuberant pose, Mr. Mistoffelees jumped mid-air, touching his toes while doing the splits, sparks and glitter flying everywhere.

The magician was all smiles when he leapt from the platform. Tugger didn’t bother to hide his excitement and laughed as Mr. Mistoffelees raced towards him.

* * *

People shouted and cheered in a standing ovation as Mr. Mistoffelees raced towards the stage. Although he Thanks to the help of his assistant, the show was a complete success. Overwhelmed with a rush of elation, joy and gratitude, Mr. Mistoffelees soared towards Tugger. He wanted to hug him. Their hands clasped as Mistoffelees climbed onstage. With a nudge, he grinned at his assistant and smirked as if to say, “_Good job_,” before facing the cheering crowd with a bow.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen!” He waved. “You’ve been a splendid audience! And please, give a hand to my amazing volunteer assistant for the evening! Good night!”

The crowd roared in applause, and with that, the curtains drew to a close.

Tugger continued to slow clap beside him. An awkward silence filled the air, and Mr. Mistoffelees was slow to face him. Not one to break the ice, Mistoffelees rubbed the back of his neck and smiled.

“Hey,” he breathed, suddenly tongue-tied and shy.

Tugger smirked, running his thumbs back and forth inside his belt, and Mr. Mistoffelees found he liked that. “Hey,” he said back. “Brilliant show tonight.”

Mistoffelees scratched behind his ear. “Uh, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“No, really.” He turned to face Tugger. “Thank you... for everything. I mean it. You saved my ass out there.”

Amusement and something else flickered behind his eyes. “My pleasure, and please, call me Tugger.”

A muffled squeal had both Tugger and Mr. Mistoffelees turning their heads.

Face painted orange with gaudy clown makeup, the acrobatic comedic performer known as Rumpleteazer covered her mouth, her eyes saucer-wide.

“Oi, whatsa matter there, Rump?” Her male counterpart approached with twin hula-hoops, stopping dead in his tracks. “Don’t tell me ya caught stage frigh... _t_.”

“It’s him!” Rumpleteazer rocked back and forth on her heels. “_It’s really him!_” she screamed. “See? Told ya so, Jerrie!”

Mistoffelees glanced at Tugger, who shrugged.

“Nah can’t be.” He scratched his head. “Don’t get your knickers in a knot. He’s probably just some look-a-like.”

“No! It must be him! He even said so—”

“Hey! You two blabber mouths go on in ten. Quit bothering the talent. Here’s your coat, twinkle toes.” The stage manager shoved the top hat and coat at Mistoffelees, making him stumble. “Yours too, punk.” He chucked the motorcycle jacket at Tugger showing the next act towards the stage.

Mistoffelees rolled his eyes. “Oh my god.” He groaned. “I hate you so much. Call me twinkle toes one more time and I’ll conjure up a trick to make _you_ disappear next time. Asshole,” he spat between clenched teeth as the stage manager waddled out of earshot.

Tugger laughed soft and throaty next to him, and a pang of embarrassment hit him. With the shy tilt of his head Mistoffelees found Tugger watching him. Where expecting scorn, he noticed amusement instead.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side.” Tugger’s eyes twinkled with humor.

“Uh, did I just say that out loud?” He blinked.

Tugger smiled. “You did.”

“Oh.”

“But if it’s any consolation, I would pay good money to see that.”

Mistoffelees snorted. This guy was cool. Okay, more than cool, he was amazing. Not that he ever planned to say that out loud. Under normal circumstances, he normally shied away from new people. But Mr. Mistoffelees felt at ease around Tugger. He didn’t want them to part ways just yet.

“Hey,” he offered, hoping Tugger would say yes. “As a thank you, wanna join me back stage for a drink? If you have time, that is, but I understand if you’d rather get back out there.”

Their eyes met again and that fluttery feeling of butterflies in the pit of his stomach returned.

Tugger leaned in close. “A drink sounds lovely, thank you.”

Pleased, Mistoffelees arched a brow. “Follow me.”

Tugger dipped his head as they walked in companionable silence, his boots echoing down the hall.


	3. Strange Names

“So,” Tugger said, reclining on the sofa backstage, his long legs dangling over the edge. “I ought to ask, those two odd characters, friends of yours?”

His back to Tugger, Mistoffelees pulled two frosty beers from the mini fridge. They had retired to the quiet sanctuary of his dressing room only moments ago, and in that brief space of time, Tugger made himself right at home.

“You mean Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer?” He frowned. “I wouldn’t exactly call them friends.” Mr. Mistoffelees shook his head and handed Tugger a green bottle. “I hope Heineken is okay?”

“Lovely.” Tugger accepted it with nod.

“Cool.” He sat backwards on a chair across the room. It felt good to sit after dancing on his feet. “And Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer I still can’t figure out. I’ve hung without them once or twice after rehearsal, but I have no clue if they’re an item or siblings.”

“Perhaps they’re both.”

Bottle pressed to his lips, Mistoffelees stopped to give Tugger a double take.

“Ugh! Please tell me you’re joking.” He blanched.

Tugger chuckled softly. “I am.”

Mistoffelees took a swing of his beer with the shake of his head. It was odd. He didn’t expect talking with Tugger to be this easy. To be this much _fun_.

“Okay, good.” He rolled his eyes. “Otherwise I would have to say something. I just don’t get why they were so weird earlier? Do they maybe know you from somewhere?”

A playful spark gleamed in his eye. Tugger brought his drink to his lips and gave a slow teasing smile, and Mr. Mistoffelees couldn’t look away.

“Perhaps,” Tugger said, taking a long slow sip, the muscles in his throat gulping.

The more he watched Tugger, the more fascinated he became. Tugger was a mystery. A man comfortable in his own skin. One who danced like a pro, dressed and acted like an 80s rock star onstage. Mr. Mistoffelees wanted to get to know him better. Caught staring, he felt his face redden and glanced towards the ceiling.

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong,” Tugger continued with a smirk. “But you said their names were Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie? How peculiar.”

Mistoffelees rubbed the back of his neck, risking a glance at Tugger. “Uh, yeah. Their stage names are a little out there… Otherwise they go by Rachael and Jerrie. But all jokes aside, their act is pretty entertaining.”

As if on cue, laughter rang out from the audience outside the dressing room. Lost in his own world and so engrossed with getting to know Tugger, Mr. Mistoffelees momentarily lost track of the time. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer’s act would end soon and the night would be over and he and Tugger would go their separate ways.

“Strange,” Tugger said, amber eyes burning into his. “I cannot think of anything more entertaining than a dancing magician. Which reminds me, how on earth did you ever manage that last trick with your hat?”

A bead of sweat rolled down his spine. Mr. Mistoffelees tried to keep his cool and arched a brow.

“A magician never reveals his tricks.” He smirked, taking a sip from his bottle, enjoying himself a little too much. But then doubt set in. There was no way Tugger could know. Could he?

“Hmm, so all your magic is of your own bat.” Tugger grinned and Mr. Mistoffelees relaxed. He liked that. “And forgive me for asking, but your name, is it _truly _Mister Mistoffelees? Or is that purely for the stage as well?”

Mr. Mistoffelees shifted in his seat. He hated talking about his name. People usually laughed when he showed them his drivers’ licence, making him recoil in his skin. “No,” he hesitated after a pause, “that’s my actual name. My first is Quaxo, and I hate it.”

“Hate it?” Tugger leaned forward, interest shining in his eyes. “I find it rather fetching. Somehow, I imagine it would just roll off your tongue. It’s rather unique, and it suits you.”

That was the first time anyone, other than his little sister who complimented him on his name. Something warmed in the pit of his stomach and Mr. Mistoffelees ruffled his hair, pretending not to notice what it did to him.

“That’s amazing how you make my name sound like an insult.” He laughed it off, trying to deflect the attention away from him.

“I assure you it’s not.” Tugger smiled. “Does your name have any specific meaning?”

“Gift of Magic or something like that.” He scratched his head. “It’s Italian.”

“Hmm,” Tugger purred, leaning back, one arm stretched over the back of the couch. “I like it. And if you ask me, I believe that Mistoffelees is derived from the name _Mephistopheles?_”

That came as a shock. Mr. Mistoffelees parted and closed his mouth a few times before he settled on keeping it closed. Very few connected the mythical dots behind his name. Fewer still understood its meaning.

“So, I take it by your proposed silence that I am correct in my assumptions?” Tugger raised an eyebrow.

“Well, not entirely, no.” Mistoffelees looked away, scratching his cheek. “But you’re not wrong either.”

“Why, I am positively intrigued.”

A moment passed between them. Struck by the slow, seductive way Tugger eyed him, his full lips curving into a smile, Mistoffelees cleared his throat.

“So is your name really Tugger?” Mr. Mistoffelees broke the silence, taking a large gulp of beer.

“It is,” Tugger answered, soft and sultry. “My parents were hippies who named me after a cat.”

Mistoffelees just stared at him.

“What?” He burst into laughter. “I’m sorry, did you just say someone named you after a _cat?_”

“Meow,” Tugger said with a smirk and Mistoffelees laughed again. This guy was too much fun.

“Tsk, tsk.” Tugger waved a finger as Mr. Mistoffelees who continued to giggle. “Don’t laugh and don’t scoff. That cat was loved and lived to be ninety-nine years old.”

“What? Ninety-nine years old!” He gasped.

“Well, yes, in human years, you see.”

“Oh, and was he English too?”

Tugger grinned. “Why, you’re a funny little thing.” He chuckled. “The cat was American, actually. Like you.”

“Huh. So, if your cat was American and you’re English,” he mused, “does that mean you lived in the States for a while?”

“I’m a Londoner. Born and bred for the past twenty-seven years. The cat belonged to my American father. He lived with us until I was nine.”

Intrigued, Mr. Mistoffelees couldn’t help but ask, “Who? Your dad or the cat?”

“Both.”

They both fell silent, and Mr. Mistoffelees wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“Oh. Sorry. I’m asking too many questions,” he apologised with the shake of his head. He often got on Vicky’s case for being nosy and here he was guilty of doing exactly the same thing. “I’ll just shut up now.”

“Hmm,” Tugger purred, not the least bit dissuaded. “On the contrary, I quite enjoy your questions and the sound of your voice, _Kwaa-Zts-so_.”

Mistoffelees opened his mouth to make a witty reply when his phone rang.

* * *

Tugger eyed Mistoffelees, who continued to stare at the screen, phone in hand. So, his instincts were right. Magical Mr. Mistoffelees was shy. _How endearing_.

“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Tugger asked, not unkindly.

“I don’t know this number.”

Tugger watched Mr. Mistoffelees frown. He restrained from taking the phone away from the aloof magician and answering it himself when Mistoffelees pressed the accept button and let out a breath.

“Hello?” he answered, his voice shaky.

“Quaxo? It’s Cassie!” Tugger’s ears perked up at the distressed female voice coming from the other end of the call. “I’m at the hospital.”

His eyes wide with fear, Mistoffelees locked onto Tugger from across the room. “_What?_ The hospital!” He gasped. “What happened?”

“I don’t know!” she cried. “The doctor is sending me to x-ray soon. I twisted my ankle really bad! I think I may have broken it!”

Sympathy washed over Tugger when she burst into tears over the phone. Poor thing sounded a right proper mess.

“Oh my god, Cass.” Mistoffelees slumped in his chair, a hand covering his worry-stricken face. Tugger fought the urge to place a hand on his shoulder in support, but restrained himself.

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Mr. Mistoffelees soothed. “Tell me what happened, sweetheart.”

Tugger tried not to eavesdrop on what he presumed to be a private call. But those words of endearment made his heart sink. Mr. Mistoffelees and his assistant must be in some type of relationship. He tried to be happy for the magician. Yet the thought of Mr. Mistoffelees being taken by someone else left Tugger confounded by his own jealousy.

His head turned to one side; Tugger tried not to listen in on their phone conversation. Yet, the voice on the other end carried on loud and clear in full panic mode and he couldn’t help himself.

“_I’msosorryImissedyourshow!_” she blabbered almost hysterically. “But my phone died! When I realized I was running late, I lost my footing and my heel got stuck in a sewer grate and I tripped and fell! Quaxo, what if something is seriously wrong? What if I can’t dance anymore? I made a mess of everything. You must hate me.”

Tugger heard her sniffle and sob through the phone, and even he felt sorry for her. Talk about terrible luck.

“Don’t even talk like that! Cass, I could never hate you.” Mistoffelees reassured, and Tugger found his fondness for the magician grow even deeper. “Hush now, I’m on my way, babe. Everything’s going to be okay,” he reassured, and she wailed once more. “Aw, don’t cry, sweetie. We’ll figure this out.”

The magician stood to his feet and Tugger followed suit. Mistoffelees used his shoulder to keep his phone pressed to his ear and turned sideways as he struggled to put on his coat. “Okay, yeah, Maryland Ave off 58th street, yeah, uh-huh, I know where that is,” he mumbled into the phone, back turned to Tugger. “Okay, yeah-huh, just hold on tight, Cass. I’m on my way.”

Mistoffelees ended the call with a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry, but—”

“You have to go.” Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Tugger expected no further explanations. “I understand. I can accompany you, if you like?”

Mistoffelees smiled, and once again Tugger marveled at the effect this man had on him. The magician was visibly shaken but tried to maintain his cool. Tugger admired his calm demeanour in the face of a crisis. If only he had that same outlook things might have gone differently at that horrid trial.

_“You’re a coward, Tugger!” Demeter screamed at him as Munk dragged her away. “A fucking coward!”_

Tugger shook his head at the memory.

“Thanks, but you’ve done so much for me already.” Mr. Mistoffelees smiled, unaware of where his mind just went. “Maybe we can exchange numbers and meet up for a drink or something later?” He held up his phone, eyes hopeful. “I owe you one.”

Pleased, Tugger tucked stood and tucked his thumbs into his belt and draped his motorcycle jacket over one arm. “Glad to be of assistance.” He cocked his head to the side. “And no thanks necessary. I quite enjoy the limelight.”

Mistoffelees smirked. “I can tell. By the way,” he asked while they exchanged numbers. “Where did you learn to dance like that? You must have had some professional training.”

“I am classically trained dancer, yes,” he answered while typing his number. “But I much prefer the alternative style of dance to ballet.”

“So that explains it!” Mr. Mistoffelees smirked. “Here you go. Well, if you want to get together sometime, I’m usually out of the studio around seven.”

“Seven, huh? I’ll hold you to that, Misto.”

“Misto?” The magician lifted his chin, puzzlement shining in his adorable big round eyes.

“Mmm-hmm,” Tugger all but purred. “I gave you a new name.”

Mistoffelees blinked. “A new name?”

“Yes. To replace the one you hate so much. Magical Mister Mistoffelees, the dancing magician, or Misto for short, God of Mixed Magic.”

A slow smile spread across Mr. Mistoffelees’ face. “Misto, God of Mixed Magic? Huh, I kind of like that.”

“Good.” Tugger hummed low in his throat. “And please, take good care of that girl of yours. I hope she gets better.”

Mistoffelees crinkled his nose at Tugger as if he’d just said something repulsive. “Cassie’s not my girl.” He smiled.

Another thrill went through his spine. So, the magician and his assistant weren’t an item. Tonight just kept getting more interesting by the minute. So interesting, that Tugger didn’t want it to end.

“I see.” Tugger cocked his head to the side. “Regardless, I wish her well.” Tugger dipped his head. He didn’t want to say goodbye.

“Thanks,” Mr. Mistoffelees offered with a smile.

Tugger swallowed. Mr. Mistoffelees was about to walk out that door. It was now or never. “Oh, and Misto?” He raced to catch up with him.

The magician stopped in the open doorway, a smile still on his lips and eyes alight with question. Fuck, he was cute. Tugger stopped just short of him.

“It’s real, isn’t it?”

“Huh?” He turned and Tugger could have sworn the magician blushed. He took a step closer.

“Your magic,” Tugger said, and nothing more. “It’s real.”


End file.
